


NO REST FOR THE WICKED

by Dr_Z



Series: Amalia Dorea Potter [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Being an Idiot, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Exhausted Severus Snape, Gen, Hogwarts, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Lord Potter, Severus Snape-centric, Spinner's End
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:28:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24281344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Z/pseuds/Dr_Z
Summary: Severus has worked all bloody school year to ensure Albus Dumbledore leaves him alone this summer. Finally, he can relax. So what if he wants to collapse on the settee and sleep for three days? He deserves it.Of course, any thought of relaxation is thrown out the window when someone knocks on his door.
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore/Minerva McGonagall, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry & Severus Snape, Severus Snape & Original Female Character(s)
Series: Amalia Dorea Potter [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1752820
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	NO REST FOR THE WICKED

Severus fell into his settee with an exaggerated exhaustion he would have died rather than allow anyone to see. He propped his feet up onto the cherry coffee table, and allowed himself to _breathe._ The school year was over. _Finally._

This end-of-term staff meeting had seemed _inordinately_ long. Dumbledore had twinkled his blue eyes and requested ‘volunteers’ to write references for the graduating seventh years. Never _mind_ that this was a prerogative usually reserved for the teachers themselves to decide which students they desired to champion; _no,_ the Headmaster simply lived on dictating the actions of others like a piece on a chess board.

Charlie Weasley, an aspiring dragon-tamer, was commended for his logic, quick thinking, and ability to converse with people of all backgrounds (he was? The boy barely spoke in Potions class, and Severus had never the need to assign him detention so he wouldn’t know).

Killian Greengrass, applying for a Charms mastery, was praised for his skills in transfiguration, and Sprout wrote of her sorrow over the loss of such a brilliant Chaser (what did this have to do with Charms? But Severus did not voice his complaints, for fear the meeting would stretch _ever_ longer).

Elenora Fletchling, who wanted to open her own bakery, was congratulated for her drive and organisation skills, as befitted a senior prefect (Severus had rarely spoken to the Ravenclaw, but once again signed his name nonetheless).

“And now, we shall look over the anonymous feedback.” Severus had rolled his eyes at an amused Filius as Dumbledore spoke about the importance of unity and placing students above any petty desire for rivalry among the staff (and the feedback? Well, it was ignored of course. Why _would_ they want a permanent DADA teacher, or a Care of Magical Creatures teacher who didn’t want to retire, or a Divination teacher who wasn’t a drunk, rambling phony?).

“Ah, Severus my boy, could I have a quick word with you?”

“And how one word will turn into an eternity,” Severus muttered, but remained in his seat. Irma sent him a knowing look as the staff room emptied; Minerva remained behind.

“Minerva, darling, I just wanted a quick word—”

“The school year is over, Albus.” the witch said looking at Severus with a slight smile, “I would prefer if you didn’t keep the young man from his holiday any longer. And us from ours.”

“Please, Albus, Minerva,” Severus interrupted. “Whatever is so important? I do have much to attend to,”

“Ah.” Dumbledore looked at Minerva almost pleadingly, but she made no move to leave. “It appears I will not have time for my usual visits this summer, Severus,” he said finally, (of course, Severus knew this. He had facilitated a relationship to ensure some bloody freedom) “I do hope you will manage to care of yourself even so.”

“I am old enough to no longer require the care of my old professor, Albus,” Severus said, hiding his grin, “But I appreciate the thought, unnecessary as it may be.”

“Oh, Albus, how kind of you!” Minerva gushed. Severus could almost taste his escape. Say it, say it, please say it. “I’ll come along on your visits. I do believe Severus could use a mothering touch.” She cupped his cheek and touched a strand of his hair, clucking her tongue.

“I look forward to meeting the two of you, but please,” Severus stood up, “Enjoy the honeymoon.”

Minerva chuckled: “Cheeky boy!”

The twinkle had returned to Dumbledore’s eyes, “Thank you, Severus.”

Severus twisted until his entire body was pressed into the material of the leather couch. He was perfectly content to fall asleep right here; dirty and sweaty and _uncouth_ as his mother would screech, but he was home and he was alone and he could finally… relax.

But then there was a knock on the door. Polite, but insistent. Three raps.

 _No._ Severus pushed his face in further. Merlin himself could not make him move.

Knock, knock.

_Go away._

Knock, knock, knock.

Bloody muggles. How did they know he was in here, for god’s sake!

“Professor Snape!” called an unfamiliar voice, “I know you’re in there, Professor. Open the godforsaken door!”

Severus froze. This was no muggle; how did she know he was a professor? But no being alive knew of where he lived, and no self-respecting wizard would dare to wonder into this neighbourhood, muggle-loving or otherwise.

“Please, professor Snape!”

What to do, what to do? Severus berated himself even as he rushed to the door: _should’ve placed the house under a Fidelius charm, Severus you idiot, no you wanted bloody fresh milk—_

“Hello.” He opened the door calmly. A nervous young woman was stood at his doorstep, dressed in a bottle green dress, a pair of leggings and a black hoody. Under his stern gaze, the woman shuffles nervously, and pulls her hood firmly over her messy black plait. Those hazel eyes… they looked so familiar, but Severus was sure he had never met her.

“Severus Snape?” she asked.

“You didn’t seem too hesitant when you were knocking down my door,” Severus answered.

“Right,” the girl grinned suddenly, and it changed her entire face, her eyes almost disappearing in her mirth. “You are exactly as she described.”

“Who?” Severus asked, “Who are you?”

“Are we going to have this conversation on your doorstep or are you going to let me in?” the girl had the impudence to lean against the doorjamb (was she _mocking_ him?).

“That’s enough,” Severus snapped, beginning to push the door closed, “I don’t have time to waste.”

“Wait!” the girl placed her hand in the way. Severus glared at it. “I’m sorry! This is serious, I swear! I didn’t know who else to turn to!”

Severus cleared his throat— _get on with it._

The girl shifted uncomfortably: “I need your help to find Harry Potter.”

Severus instantly recoiled, physically moving backwards in his shock. “Is this a joke?”

“No!” the girl exclaimed, “Please! Hear me out!”

But Severus’ eye was drawn to the ring on her small, brown hand. A familiar gold signet ring with an engraved coat of arms.

Severus stared at the girl, who was spluttering, pleading for his help. He marked the familiar hazel eyes, the full lips, the thick brown hair—his brain helpfully churned out an image of a white man, with eyes the exact same colour and untameable hair and those lips raised in a mocking smirk. Impossible! And yet…

“Fuck off, Potter!”

He slammed the door shut, but she managed to wedge her foot in, bloody stubborn Potter. “Please,” she repeated once again. “Hear my story, and then make a decision. Here,” she rummaged in her pocket and pulled out a polished length of wood. “A show of faith,”

“A show of faith,” Severus repeated dumbly, taking her wand.

“Yeah!” she exclaimed, “Why not?”

“Why not?”

“Can I come in?” she asked. Severus stared at her.

“Also, I think you broke my foot?”


End file.
